Our Little Secret
by KlaineHugs
Summary: Blaine's finally gotten his big break at Dalton Academy... For spies, that is. His mission, should he choose to accept it, is to infiltrate McKinley High as a student and befriend the son of Congressman Burt Hummel. Now it's been said that one should never get too attached to their target, but Kurt Hummel doesn't exactly make that saying too easy to follow...
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

Blaine Anderson was completely and utterly screwed. He could've sworn he set his alarm to 8AM last night to make SURE that he was up on time, and yet there the numbers on his phone glowed, "8:35." As if the light streaming through his curtains weren't giving him enough of a headache. Now he had to rush to get his head together before he left. Honestly, any other day he could have been late and it wouldn't have mattered, but today was not one of those days. Blaine was never behind schedule of he could help it, but these next couple of months particularly were crucial. Through his panic, Blaine somehow managed to sift through his closet and find his most official uniform. He made him self as presentable as possible in the thirty seconds he allowed himself in front of the mirror before grabbing his bag and running out the door. As he jumped into his car, he looked at the clock on his dashboard with the faraway hope that the time on his phone was wrong and he actually wasn't running late. Of course that hope was instantly crushed and he swore under his breath in frustration as he started up the engine, pulling out into the main drag at a faster speed then he would have liked. On top of being late, it probably wouldn't be best to add a speeding ticket and a conversation with a police officer to his reasons as to why he was in late.

He slowed down once he hit the main road and traffic began to get a little heavier. He yawned as he kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead of him, regretting the fact that he hadn't left enough time for his morning coffee fix that he so desperately needed. He figured he didn't have time to stop at a Starbucks, so he just had to power through the sleepy trance that was keeping him down. The brightness of the clear sky was already piercing through his windshield as if it was trying to cheer him up after a gloomy and slightly stressful morning. He took in the deeply colored pine trees around him, which were as wet as the road from yesterday's rain. Mornings like these reminded him just how beautiful nature he was, and he almost wished he had more time to explore it. He turned his attention back to the road as he saw the lights changing. At the next red light, he reached over to turn on his radio and listened to the next song that was playing on the radio.

"Good Morning Colorado! It's a chilly Monday here in Denver, colder than usual for this time of the year. Better bundle those kids up before you send them off to the bus stop, this week is going to be a cold one!"

Blaine mentally slapped himself for not grabbing some extra warm clothes this morning, but in the grand scheme of things, it had just seemed unnecessary. Besides, he probably had something warm in his dorm room. The light turned green as the radio began listing off the rest of the week's forecast and a traffic updates before turning over to the latest gossip in celebrity news. Nothing particulary interesting seemed to come up, and eventually a song came on. He reached over to the volume knob to turn it up, humming along to the tune he was only slightly familiar with. Soon after the song ended, the road began to narrow and the trees appeared to move in closer. The road was still paved, but he always felt like he was entering an untouched part of nature when he went down this road and watched himself get farther from the civilization behind him.

In the distance, a sign was becoming visible. It stood proudly with the words "Dalton Academy Preparatory School for Boys" displayed boldly. He sighed in relief as he threw a another glance at the clock on his dashboard and slightly increased his speed to make it out of the now thinning forest. Moments later, he was pulling into the clearing, the campus now in full view. The flat land stretched on for a few miles, making the trees and everything around it seem smaller than they really were. He continued down the road towards the heart of the main campus before making a turn into the nearest parking space he could find. He got of his car quickly, taking in his surroundings as he integrated himself into a group of the boys who were entering the school. No one seemed to notice his arrival as he slipped right into the main hallway among them. He followed a small group of guys around the corner and down into the rather large common area where the rest of the school and most faculty members were. Blaine glanced around the room, taking in all the activity that was happening around him.

"What's this? Mr. Perfect is a session late during field scouting season? Someone stop the presses!"

Blaine turned his head to see Wes and David coming up behind him, both dressed in proper uniforms with smug, yet amused expressions on their faces.

"We better watch out for Anderson here, he might totally fall off the grid!"

He rolled his eyes at the two boys as they made their way towards him. His friends' exaggeration wasn't a total stretch. Blaine was NEVER late, and if he ever was, it was because of a life or death situation. And so what if he wanted to have a good record? It wasn't like it was a bad habit to have, especially around here. Especially since it was scouting season, that just made his habit all the more useful to have. "You wish I would fall off the grid," Blaine retorted with a smirk of his own. "Then you might actually have a shot at getting an actual assignment."

Wes rolled his eyes in response. Around this time of every Dalton students junior year, government officials of the CIA and other special intelligence cooperations would oversee the group of Dalton students that are excelling in not only in field training but in other subjects better known in modern schools. If you're lucky, you might get scouted right after graduating the academy. In the past, some students have been known to have been scouted while still enrolled in school, but those cases were far and few between. Blaine certainly wasn't holding his breath for that much of a lucky break, but hey, even students of a secret spy school had dreams.

"So why was Mr. Perfect late today? The world is dying to know."

"I went home over the weekend for the first time in forever and my alarm decided to sleep in," Blaine said. "I should've known better than to go home on a weekend during this time of year. If I was any later, I would've been assigned to detention and would probably never have seen the light of day."

"I doubt they would be that strict with you, Mr. Perfect. They would still probably dedicate a bench in the courtyard to you the next time you got an A on a field training test," David said as the three of them wandered down the hallway to their lockers.

"Oh trust me, they would be that strict with me. Are you forgetting that Mr. Perfect has a father who was the original Mr. Perfect here? If they're going to be hard on anyone here, it's going to be me."

"But that's also why you're probably going to be one of the first people assigned to the field this year," Wes added as the three of them stood before Blaine's locker. Blaine turned the dial to his combination lock and swung the door open, shifting though the books he needed for class.

"For all of our sakes, I hope you're right. If Anderson can't get an assignment, then none of us stand a chance."

"Anderson," Blaine turned at the sound of his name being called. Mr. Farman, an assistant who worked in the main building, was heading in his direction. "Plathy wants to see you in his office before second session begins."

"Yes sir," Blaine replied promptly. He then watched Mr. Farman nod before turning back down the direction he had come from.

"What was that about?" David asked as his eyes followed the figure of Farman walking back down the hallway.

"Dude, you're totally getting scouted!" Wes said, gripping his shoulders from behind and shaking them.

"Highly unlikely. If anything, it's probably something about the mice that those underclassman let loose in our dorms last week," Blaine said as he shut the door to his locker with a _bang_.

"Come on, that had nothing to do with you, and I'm pretty sure all those mice that Kent and Brent let out are completely gone by now. Plathy doesn't even know about it. Can't you just have a little hope here? You never know," Wes said as Blaine started to walk away from them.

"Only one way to find out," Blaine said over his shoulder. He made his way back down the main hallway, making sure to avoid his first session class to avoid a scolding for not being there this morning. He arrived at the main office as the second session late bell rang. He swung the glass door open and approached the main desk.

"Hello Ms. Evans, Plathy called for me?"

"Hello Mr. Anderson! Yes, I'll let him know that you're here. In the meantime, have a seat," she said as she smiled brightly. Blaine smiled back at her as he took a seat in the chair next to her desk. Ms. Evans was a cheerful blonde, her hair always in a tight ponytail at the top of her head and a pair of black framed glasses perched on her small nose. Her green eyes seemed to be brighter than the last time he had seen her and she always seemed to have a soft spot for him. It was sweet, but that's all it was. He continued to put on his dapper charm for everyone, which was probably his issue in the first place, but he liked to keep people guessing.

"Plathy will see you now."

Blaine rose from his chair and walked in the direction of Plathy's office. He sent a small smile in her direction before he disappeared down the hallway. Upon arriving at the office, he knocked on the rim of the open door.

"Come in, Mr. Anderson," Plathy said without looking up from the paper he was reading. Blaine entered the room, approaching the desk before taking a seat in the chair directly in front of him.

"You asked to see me sir?"

"Yes, I did." he replied clearing his throat slightly. "Do you follow politics?"

"I have a decent understanding of what's going on. If I may, why are you asking?"

"Burt Hummel, does that name sound familiar to you?"

"Yes, he's one of the candidates in the running for presidency," Blaine replied, slightly puzzled.

"These past couple of months, he has been receiving a plethora of emails from a blocked address as well as a some unorthodox letters in the mail. They've all been threatening letters trying to get him to drop out as a candidate, but up until now there hasn't anything serious enough for Mr. Hummel to feel the need to report this to the authorities. Recently however, they've been targeting his son, putting threats on his life, and exposing family affairs. They have pictures and seem to know things that only people who were around him often would know. Mr. Hummel has become more aware of the situation and has taken things to the police. The only issue is they can't seem to get a handle on it."

"What do you mean?"

"Whoever is doing this seems to know exactly what they are doing. Everything that could lead them to the culprit seems to hit a dead end. A blocked phone number or an inactive email. No proof. They just disappear into thin air. Poof."

"Sir, not to be rude, but how does this pertain to me?" Blaine asked, watching Plathy with a confused look.

"His son is your age and attends McKinley High School in Lima. The special forces have come to us with the intention of finding someone who could help them with the case," he replied, as he leaned back slightly in his chair and watched Blaine intently.

"So, just so we're on the same page here, you want me to go to Lima to do what exactly?"

"They want you to go undercover to McKinley as a transfer student, someone from another state, that can get close to his son and can closely observe the people around him, as well as protect him from any harm that might come his way. If they have an agent like this, they might have a better chance at uncovering who might be behind everything."

"Not to be disrespectful in any way possible, but why me?" Blaine asked, "I'm only a junior."

"But you're at the top of your class, not to mention you're a legacy here. Your father was at the top of his class too, and he had many opportunities knocking at his door," Plathy said, standing up from his desk to reach over into his filing cabinet. "But that's not all. You were hand picked, not completely because of your background, but because of your other appeals. The service feels that you might be able to connect with the boy on another level that will make him more inclined to become closer to you."

Blaine opened his mouth to ask what he was talking about specifically, but he was cut off when he was handed a file. "Look Blaine, this is an amazing chance for you. You could potentially be saving a life here, maybe two, but we won't know unless you choose to accept this mission."

Blaine looked down at the cream colored file in his hands and thumbed it open slightly before shutting it again. He knew that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and if he didn't take it, he might regret it later. "When do I start?"


	2. Chapter 2

Our Little Secret 2

Blaine left Plathy's office soon after, and by then it was about time for second session. He didn't say anything as he left the main office, not even offering Ms. Evans a respectful "goodbye" as he pushed open the glass doors once again and entered the empty hallway. The sound of his shoes echoed through the quiet and the noise seemed to reach his ears at an increased volume. He gripped the manilla folder in his hands a little tighter as thoughts raced through his mind faster than he could comprehend them. He shouldn't have been this surprised about the entirety of the situation, considering his background and family, but he was still trying to wrap his head around it. The sheer fact that he had gotten this mission was so overwhelming, he almost questioned whether he was ready for it. Logically though, there was no reason for him to be having doubts, after all, he'd been spending most of his life training for something for like this to come along. He could do this. He was coming up to his second session classroom, but then he hesitated at the closed door, leaning slightly against the doorframe. He didn't think he could concentrate on anything right now, so before anyone noticed he was here, he backed away and continued down to the end of the hallway, where there was a back door that lead to the dorm wing of the school. He had never skipped class before, but he felt like if there was any time to do it, it would be now.

He pushed the door open quietly, peaking his head into the hallway where the long row of dorm rooms was. It was dead silent in the hall, thankfully empty of any students who might be skipping or not in class at the moment. He entered the hallway fully, walking quietly down the hall while making sure to look out for anyone who might suddenly appear. As he approached the front of his dorm room, he reached into the pocket of his bag for the key with the Dalton crest on the chain. He unlocked the door, swinging the door open, and stepped inside. The room looked exactly like he had left it the previous week. The two beds were perfectly made, pushed to the opposite sides of the fairly spacious room. His desk was clean, with only a single black notebook and a lamp on its surface. The keyboard was still up against the wall with a few music sheets on the stand attached to it. He quietly shut the door behind him, remembering to lock it before setting his bag down on the desk chair and the folder on the desk. He went over to his bed and flopped down on his back, staring at the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing in the world before and letting out a long sigh. He just let his mind wander for a while, not really thinking about anything and he closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, he realized that he had fallen asleep briefly and looked up at the clock to find that he had slept through another session. At this point, he didn't think that going to class would be worth it, so he just rolled over in the bed and spared a glance around his room. He looked over at his desk with the file sitting on the top. He just stared at it for a moment before he got off the bed, picked it up and brought it back to his bed. He thumbed it open, looking at the contents of the file. Inside was an abundance of things; copies of the letters and pictures of things related to the case, general information compiled by the local police, and information about Burt and his family. Blaine leafed though the papers before stopping on a photo. It was a photo of a boy, presumably of Burt's son. He appeared to be around Blaine's age, but had a boyish look to him. His chestnut blonde hair was combed up into a swish that had Blaine wondering how much product he had to use to get it that way (not that Blaine was one to talk, he practically cemented his hair down to tame his curls). His had these blue eyes that seemed to have accents of green to them, and his pale skin tone seemed to bring them out. He pulled his attention away from the photo to read some general information about him and his family. Soon he had everything spread across his bed, covering the entire surface of it. He had no idea how long he had been looking at it because suddenly, the door was being unlocked and Wes and David appeared, entering the room without realizing Blaine was already in there.

"So anyway, I told Marc- Blaine!" Wes cut himself off as he was greeted with the scene before of him. "Where have you been, we've been worried about you."

"I was sent to Plathy's office… and then I decided I didn't want to go to class."

"And...? You can't just leave it there! What happened?! Since when do you ditch class?!"

"Well..."

"Wait, hold on, no way! You got a field mission didn't you?!"

Blaine opened his mouth to speak as Wes lowered his gaze down to the file spread all over the face of his bed. Blaine quickly piled everything together and stuffed it back into its manilla folder. "If I did, I couldn't tell you. Confidential."

"But you did!" David said with an eyebrow raised and a smile on his face.

"Confidential."

"Yeah, okay Mr. Goody Two shoes."

The two of them took a seat on Wes' bed, dropping their bags on the floor beside them. "How long do you think this'll take?"

"I mean, I fly out tomorrow morning. But after that I have no idea."

"Flying to…?"

"I'll give you all the details when the mission is done." Blaine said as he got up from the bed, reaching for his backpack on the chair to put the file inside.

"You're no fun. I would tell you about my mission if I got one." Wes said, attempting to pull Blaine's signature pouting face but failing dramatically.

"And who has the mission here?"

"You. And you just broke your confidentiality by telling us that!"

"You have no proof," Blaine said with a smirk.

"Ah, but you're not the only one who goes to spy school. It's just a matter of time before someone finds the evidence."

"Right. You think there's evidence to be found. That's cute. You've met me right?"

"Is that a confession?"

"Of course not. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a field mission to pack for!"

And with that, he shoved his friends out the door.

...

The time between receiving his mission and leaving for Lima was refreshingly uneventful. He was thankfully excused from going to any of his sessions (which didn't matter because he had already missed most of them anyway) and spent the rest of the afternoon with his friends at Dalton who he wouldn't be seeing in a while. He packed his bags, said goodbye to his friends (who threw a totally uncalled for but very thoughtful party in his honor), and even visited his parents later that night, who were back from another long but top secret mission from the CIA. It was nice to see them before he had to leave, and knowing that he couldn't tell them anything killed him. Now he was just waiting for the plane that would take him to his new life for the next who knows how many months.

The airport wasn't particularly busy, which wasn't too surprising considering that it was an early Tuesday morning. He glanced around his surroundings. There were only a few people roaming the gate he was currently at. A woman and her baby girl were playing with an iPad, laughing at a cartoon or something on the screen. Another man was sitting in a far corner with his face buried in the hat that was slipping onto his sleeping face. Blaine sighed softly and slouched down into his chair. As he waited for his flight to arrive, he couldn't help but wonder about the boy he was supposed to befriend. He had read as little as possible about him from the file. He figured that if he was supposed to be gathering his own Intel on him, then it would be more efficient to go in with minimal prior knowledge and learn as much as possible through his own observations. It was weird to think that within hours, he would be getting on a plane and starting a new life in another state. He would have new friends, a new bed to sleep in every night, and a new school to attend, while at the same time trying to reveal a psychotic stalker. Man, sometimes he wished he had a normal life. But then again, where was the fun in that?

"Flight 807 to Columbus, Ohio is now boarding. Please allow all first class flyers to board first."

Blaine glanced over to the now open gate and saw a few passengers getting up out of their seats to approach the boarding area. He slowly rose out of his seat, allowing his fellow passengers to board first before taking his spot behind them. He handed his boarding pass to the young woman who was scanning the passes with a nervous glint in his eye. He tried to let it go unnoticed, but he was still in his own world, his mind wrapped around what was to come after he boarded that plane. She smiled at him with a knowing eye.

"Enjoy your flight, Mr. Anderson," she said as she handed him back the ticket. He sent a small smile and a nod in her direction. "I hear Ohio is an interesting place."

"Yeah," he said as he gripped the handle of his suitcase just a little tighter. "So have I."

.0.0.

"Mercedes, I think think something is seriously wrong."

Mercedes Jones turned away from the desk she was sitting at to turn to her best friend, Kurt Hummel, who was spread across his bed in the opposite side of the room. She raised an eyebrow at him and simply crossed her arms. "Explain."

"Everything in this magazine is a total disaster! I mean these colors don't mix well together at all, and there isn't a single thing I would actually wear! And to think, that extra birthday money is burning a hole in my pocket and there isn't a single thing to spend it on," he replied, flipping through the magazine in his hand before tossing it into the pile with other ones on his bed and plopping his face down into his perfectly soft comforter.

"Well, you could buy something for your best friend in the entire world. I hear its her birthday coming up soon too…" she said with an oh-so subtle tone in her voice.

Kurt picked his head up just enough to roll his eyes at his best friend with a sarcastic laugh. "We'll see."

Mercedes just smiled back and returned to her computer on Kurt's surprisingly clean desk. Not that Kurt wasn't an organized person, but when it came to anything Vogue, his desk began to look a little like a fashion designer's wildest fantasy. At one point you could have sworn that he owned every copy of the magazine in every published edition if you looked at the cluttered pile on his desk. He always stayed on top of his fashion, and that gave the knowledge of anything he might ever need to stay at the top of his game.

Kurt tore his eyes from the pile of magazines and went back to his notebook, where his motivation to do homework had completely abandoned him. He was already a good portion of the way done, but his flow of creative juices were slowly trickling to a stop, and he figured that forcing something down on paper would result in a glob of words that wouldn't make much of an impression. "I'm burned out."

"Me too, Larsons' essay is killing me," Mercedes replied, snapping her laptop shut and leaning back into the chair, "Which is why I'm giving up."

Kurt hummed in agreement but before he had the chance to say anything else, a knock on his door silenced him. "Kurt?"

"Yeah dad?" he replied. The door was pushed open to reveal Burt Hummel at the entrance. "Dinner's ready. Mercedes, will you be joining us? Carole's made enough tots to feed an army."

"You had me at tots," Mercedes said with a smile as she spun the in the chair to greet the familiar face.

"Alright, I'll let her know," Burt said as turned to walk down the hallway.

"Wait dad- anything for me?" Kurt said as he motioned to the mail Burt was holding.

Burt hesitated for a moment, sparing a glance at the fistful of letters in his hand. "Ah- no, not this time"

Kurt watched his father's expression change slightly, but it was gone as quickly as it came. "See you downstairs."

Kurt's father left the doorway and proceeded to walk back down the hall. Kurt wondered for a moment about his dad's strange expression. "Huh, that was.. odd."

"He's probably just stressing about the bills. C'mon, I heard there were tots," She said as she rose from the chair and held a hand out to Kurt, who then rolled his eyes but couldn't resist smiling. He graciously took her hand and pulled himself off the bed. Besides, he knew he wouldn't want to keep her from Mercedes from her tots.


End file.
